


Best Interests

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (it's a slap), Alternate Universe - No Powers, Child Peter, Custody Battle, Divorce, Eventual Bucky/Tony, Insecure Tony Stark, Irondad, James "About to Steal Your Ex" Barnes, Kid Peter Parker, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, Not exactly mean to Steve, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Infidelity, Peter is Tony and Steve's Adopted Child, Tags May Change, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark has gone to therapy, but his characterization here isn't all that nice, discussion of past marital violence, though I do plan on making him better later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22103566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tony's discovery that Steve has been cheating on him is the last straw on their struggling marriage, but filing for divorce turns into the shitstorm that is a custody battle over their young son, Peter. While struggling to reconcile the man Steve is with the man Tony believed he'd married, and working to prove himself a fit parent to the court, an unexpected visitor throws the pieces of Tony's life into turmoil.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - Relationship
Comments: 93
Kudos: 737





	1. Stable

**Author's Note:**

> Discussion of marital violence takes place at the very end of this chapter, if that's something you want to avoid.

Tony was doing his best to make this divorce amicable, he really was, for Peter’s sake as well as his own. There’d been enough turmoil in the months leading up to the decision to leave Steve that he was ready to just get things smoothed out and move on. Steve, on the other hand, seemed determined to make this process as long and painful as possible.

“I want full custody of Peter,” Steve told him. “I think it’s in his best interest.”

Tony rubbed at his forehead, sharing a glance with his lawyer. “I thought we already agreed to split custody,” he said, unable to help the edge in his voice. It was a decision that both Pepper and Rhodey had been unhappy with, urging him to keep his son as far from his ex as possible, but for all that Steve had done to hurt Tony, he hadn’t been a bad father. Pepper and Rhodey disagreed with that sentiment strongly, but that’s just how they were. Protective and unendingly loyal. But Tony had to make the best decision for Peter, and that decision wasn’t cutting him off completely from one of his dads. He’d thought Steve agreed.

“I’ve had more time to think about it. I want Peter growing up in as healthy an environment as possible. That isn’t with you.”

Same old Steve. Right to the point. A sharp point, aimed right at Tony’s heart. Tony’s lawyer spoke up. “Mr. Rogers, are you stating your intention to force a custody battle?”

“I’m not forcing anything,” Steve puffed up. “Tony,” his tone shifted into that soft cadence that used to make Tony feel warm, but lately only made his skin itch. “You know I’m right. Peter’s better off being raised in a stable house, with a stable parent.”

 _Stable_?

Tony held in a snort. His amusement, however, was soon overshadowed by rage and sadness warring in his chest. He pushed up from the table, taking a steadying breath. “I’m not signing away my son to you. This isn’t a battle you want to have, Steve. Don’t force my hand like this.” Steve’s gaze hardened, his jaw ticking in that stubborn way of his that meant he was prepared to dig his grave and die in it. Tony once found that conviction endearing.

Their lawyers cut the meeting short. Outside, his lawyer told him not to worry, and that she would call him soon to discuss the next steps to take. “In the meantime,” she said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “focus on being there for Peter.”

When Tony got home, it was with single-minded focus that he sought out his son and pulled him into a tight hug. Peter wiggled, jumping around in excitement that he was home, pulling Tony over to his art table to show him the little Play-Do creations he’d made. Tony was especially fond of the one that looked a bit like Dum-E. Pepper, who’d watched Peter for him while he was meeting with Steve, pulled him into another room, leaving Peter to his Play-Do.

“How’d it go?” she asked, and Tony felt his whole body slump. He rested his forehead on her shoulder with a loud sigh. “That bad?”

Tony told her, and while he couldn’t see her face, he could practically feel her anger rolling off her. “That asshole. How can he just -- ugh.”

Tony huffed a humorless laugh. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t have a chance in hell. He’s kicking his own ass, at this point.”

“Saves me the trouble,” Pepper grumbled. “So he’s just doing this to be a prick?”

Tony shrugged. He didn’t really know why Steve did anything. Looking at Steve was like looking at an old friend and a stranger at the same time. Something worried in the back of his mind, the part of himself that was hurt and angry convinced that Steve _was_ working to hurt him further, to punish him for the divorce, but he shoved it away. He’d gone through too much therapy to fall back into black-and-white, good-or-evil thinking just because he’d hit a bump in the road. Steve was a man with flaws, not a man filled with evil intent.

He probably did believe that what he was doing was right. That Tony was a bad father. Ice curled around his heart, sharp and unforgiving.

“Daddy!” Peter called. “Want juice!” And, after a few seconds, “Please!” Tony and Pepper laughed a little, and Tony fetched his son a sippy cup of apple juice, already resigned to the upcoming sugar high. “Thank you,” Peter recited, snatching the juice and sucking it down like he was dying of thirst. Tony watched him with amusement.

“You know, the faster you drink that, the faster it’s empty,” he warned. Peter scrunched up his face, looking down at his sippy cup critically.

“I like drinking fast,” he decided, and finished it off. Tony shook his head and smiled. Kid knew what he wanted. “Can we play cars?”

“Sure, buddy. Let’s say bye-bye to Auntie Pep first, okay?”

“Kay.”

They saw Pepper off, Tony thanking her profusely for taking the day off to watch Peter for him, which she waved off as if it was a favor to her. “I needed some breathing room from SI anyway. Really, Tony, Peter’s a delight. We had fun, didn’t we?” she asked Peter, who responded by enthusiastically recounting their time together, which included a trip to the park.

“I went on the swings and the slide and even went on the monkey bars! I fell down though, but it didn’t hurt. I’m gonna try them again next time and make it all the way across!” His words were emphasized by broad swings of his arms.

“I bet you will. You’re part monkey, after all,” Tony ruffled his hair. Peter ducked away.

“Am not!” He frowned. “I’m not, right?”

“I thought it was part spider,” Pepper said. Peter gasped, eyes wide in delight. He loved bugs. Even spiders. It had inspired more than one heart attack in Tony to find his child giggling at the house spider crawling up his arm. She leaned down to give Peter a hug. “See you later, kiddo.”

“Bye-bye!” When Pepper straightened back up, Peter turned to Tony. “I’ll go get my cars! You have to set up the track.”

“Alright. I’ll be there in a minute,” he promised. Peter rushed off back to his room. “No running inside!” Tony reminded. Peter slowed down minutely. He turned to Pepper with a meaningful look. “The sugar is kicking in.” She smiled.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Oh, yeah, he’ll tire out by bedtime.”

“Tony,” she admonished. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not going to be easy.” Nothing ever was when it came to Steve. “We’ll work through it. He’s not… a bad guy, Pepper. I did marry him for a reason.”

Pepper’s eyes darkened. “Tony. He hit you.”

“It was just a slap. One slap.”

“He _hit_ you.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Tony tried. “Emotions were high. That’s not who he is.”

“Bullshit. Even Peter knows that he doesn’t get to hit people when he’s upset.”

“Pepper… please.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Sometimes things are more complicated than that.”

She nodded, not looking convinced, but shoulders untensing. “You know I’m here for you, right? No matter what.”

“I know. Thank you.” He pulled her into a hug. “I’m so lucky I have someone like you in my corner.”

She sniffed. “Damn right.”


	2. Concerns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to avoid any confusion: since this is No Powers AU, I've changed how Tony got out of Afghanistan. It still happened and still inspired Tony to get out of weapons, it just never inspired Iron Man. And, of course, Steve in not Captain American, and he was born in modern times, as was Bucky. Also, Steve and Tony bought a house together when they decided to adopt Peter, and that's the house Tony lives in. There's some other stuff changed too, but this was what I thought might need pointing out. Enjoy!

Tony was being fussy. He knew that, he knew that the TV stand and the coffee table were clean three wipe-downs ago, and that the broom wasn’t picking up any more dirt from the kitchen, and that there was no specific angle the photos on the mantle could be turned that would make the evaluator think, “Man, this guy is a great parent. My work here is done.”

But someone was coming to his _house._ To judge him. _Evaluate,_ whatever. He was a little frayed around the edges after his first appearance in family court, so sue him. Er, no, wait.

How could Steve-- ugh. He didn’t understand why he felt so betrayed. More betrayed, even, then when he’d found his soon-to-be-ex-husband lip-locking with another man. In the end, that had felt… like a long time coming. This, though, Steve dragging up things Tony’s _already dragged up enough, thanks,_ in order to paint Tony as a mentally unfit parent? He didn’t think he’d get over it.

It was the only course of action Steve could have taken to have a chance at winning, that small, fearful and hurt part of his brain whispered. It was a calculated move on his part, to argue the point most likely to land in court while at the same time forcing Tony to relive the worst moments of his life.

Afghanistan. What happened there felt like a distant nightmare, washed out colors and blurred memories, disjointed and out of order. His therapist said that was normal. That parts he did remember were… bad. If that American platoon hadn’t raided the compound he’d been held in, he might not have made it out. Ever. And then Obie…

At least Stark Industries was better for it. Silver linings. No longer arming terrorists wasn’t exactly a win when it shouldn’t have been a problem in the first place, but, well. Dwelling on the _shoulda-coulda-wouldas_ of his past was paralyzing and unproductive.

And Steve. Steve was an ass who _needed_ to be right, not a man out to inflict as much pain upon Tony as possible. Tony knew about the ‘being an ass’ thing when he’d said his vows, and hey, he could be an ass too, sometimes. But he’d thought Steve was just strong in his convictions. There was nothing wrong with him knowing what he believed and standing by it. In fact, it was one of the reasons Tony fell in love with him. Now, Steve was just... the rock _and_ the hard place.

It was a good thing Pepper and Rhodey were there in the room with him as character witnesses. They testified to Tony’s strong bond with Peter and his parenting skills, and also vehemently denied that Tony’s trauma made him dangerous, or erratic, or whatever else Steve and his lawyer were trying to say he was. Tony was too… he’d been feeling a lot of things and would have been useless at defending himself.

Of course, with the _concerns_ brought up, the judge had called for in-home evaluations of both parties, which would include individual interviews with himself, Steve, and Peter, as well as psychological evaluations.

So he’d swept the kitchen five times.

“Daddy?” Peter walked in, seeing Tony holding the broom. “Are you _still_ cleaning? Can I help?”

Peter excitedly grabbed the broom and started sweeping side-to-side like they did in cartoons. Tony slowly released a breath, the knot in his chest unfurling a little just looking at how Peter’s little face scrunched in concentration. “Thanks, buddy. Great job. I’ve never seen this floor so clean.”

Peter beamed, like the tiniest, brightest ray of sunshine he was. He then took the broom and started riding it around like a witch. “No, Harry Potter!” he insisted when Tony commented. 

A knock at the door startled him. He straightened his spine, smoothed down his button-up shirt, and put on a smile to greet the evaluator. He opened the door, already sticking out his arm for a handshake, but froze in place at the sight of who was standing on the other side.

It was the man. The other man. The man he’d caught Steve with. Here, at his home. Wearing jeans and a frayed hoodie. “You’re not the evaluator,” he said dumbly.

The man shifted uncomfortably, his long hair falling into his face. “Uh, sorry. I know this is weird but I was -- I was just… can we talk?”

He wanted to talk, Tony thought dimly to himself. Probably about the cheating thing. “I’m actually expecting someone any minute now.” After a brief moment of hesitation, his curiosity won out. What could it hurt to hear what the guy had to say? “I’m free tomorrow?”

The man nodded once, stiffly. “I’ll come back tomorrow, then.”

A car pulled up as the man slunk away, hunched into his hoodie like he was avoiding all contact with sunlight. When a smartly dressed woman stepped out, she turned to watch him leave too. Tony was quick to offer that handshake, doing his best to not let the visitation throw him off.

“Hello, Mr. Stark. I’m Maria Hill.” She glanced back at the man’s retreating figure. “Who was that?”

“Oh, uh, he had the wrong house.” Tony shrugged it off. “Come on inside. Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.” 

He brought her to the living room, where Peter had abandoned his broomstick in favor of pulling out his zoo animal toy set. He had the lion and gorilla engaged in combat while the rest of the animals looked on. 

“Peter, this is Ms. Hill.”

“Maria,” she said, voice warm and aimed at Peter.

“Maria,” Tony corrected. “Remember I said someone was going to come ask you questions?”

Peter looked up from his toys with a frown. “Right now?”

Hill shook her head, still smiling. “Let’s wait a little while. Me and your dad can talk while you play.”

Satisfied, Peter slammed the gorilla into the animal crowd, sending the plastic figures scattering. Hill turned to him, inclining her head pointedly.

“Let’s move to the kitchen table,” he said. That way they could speak comfortably out of earshot while keeping Peter in sight. It was that moment that Tony remembered how nervous he was, and nearly ran into the archway between the two rooms. His recovery was not smooth. Hill politely pretended not to notice.

Settled at the table, Hill looked over Peter’s medical records. “How old was he when you adopted?” 

“Just a few months.”

“Is he aware that he’s adopted?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t think so. We -- me and Steve -- were planning on having a talk about it once he got old enough to really understand what that means.”

She nodded, making notes. “Now, Mr. Stark,” she started, eyes boring into him. “Can you tell me what you feel are your strengths and weaknesses when it comes to parenting?”

Tony gulped, mouth dry. Lucky his lawyer had prepared him on what to expect, or he might have frozen up. “My strengths and weaknesses. No problem. I’m... attentive. I make sure he eats healthy. I don’t really have to work, so I can be around all the time.” He swallowed again. “But I can be inconsistent when it comes to discipline. My household growing up was very strict, and though I do my best not to be like that with Peter, sometimes I can fall back on what I know.”

Hill made more notes. “Good. What would you say are Steve’s strengths and weaknesses?”

Oh, god. He chewed his cheek. “He’s a great caretaker. There were some nights, when Peter when a baby, when I couldn’t get him to stop crying. Steve, though. Swooped right in and soothed him to sleep.” Tony took in a deep breath, trying not to dwell on the emotions the memory conjured. “But, he, uh, has a hard time being in the moment sometimes. His job is stressful and he would bring that home. He couldn’t turn it off and focus on being a dad.” Or husband, but Tony left that unsaid. “He’s so great with Peter when he can focus on him.” If only the same could apply with Tony. Those last few months, being the object of Steve's focus was less than pleasant. It usually resulted in an argument.

Hill asked a few more questions, which Tony forged through despite his sweaty palms, before they moved back into the living room with Peter. Hill prompted him to engage in Peter’s play, which wasn’t weird _at all_ when he knew she was watching and _evaluating_. 

It was very weird. Peter didn’t care, though, only shoving the giraffe into Tony’s hand and instructing him to beat up the zebra. “What’d the zebra do?”

“He knows what he did,” Peter said ominously. Tony blinked down at him, and from there, only got sucked further into the conflict between the lion-led and gorilla-led zoo animals. 

After about a half hour, Hill asked Tony to leave the room while she interviewed Peter. Tony spent the whole time pacing in his room, running a hand through his hair and smoothing down his shirt endlessly. When she called him back in, she was gathering to leave. “We’ll have you come to my office for a psych eval this Sunday. Expect there to be further interviews for both you and Peter.”

Tony nodded dutifully and saw her out, breathing out a loud gust of air when the front door clicked closed. Upon turning around, Peter was standing there, looking up at him. “She was nice. Can I have juice?”


	3. Bad Joke

He called his lawyer in the morning to discuss the evaluation. “Sounds like you did really well, Tony,” she said. “You were honest and on point. That’ll reflect well on you, especially since you’ve shown willingness to work with Steve.”

“Is that really going to matter?” Tony chewed absently at his thumbnail. “He’s really going for the throat, here. I don’t want to look like I don’t care about keeping Peter.”

“It matters a lot. The court believes that two parents working together to raise their child is in the child’s best interest, whenever possible. In the case of whether you’re an unfit parent, Steve is bearing the burden of proof. He’s the one who has to work to prove something, not you.”

“Right,” Tony said, still uncertain. He’d wandered into the kitchen while on the call. Sighing, he tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder and got to work on the dishes, just to give his hands something to do. Peter was down for a nap, having slept poorly the night before and woken a _tad bit_ grumpy. The house was quiet and still. It was times like this he missed the refuge of his lab back at the tower. It was hard not to get restless, to want to escape the world for a while. Maybe when Peter got older…

“How did you prepare Peter for his interview?”

Tony paused in his movements, soap dripping down his arm. “I told him there would be one. Was I supposed to anything else?”

His lawyer hummed. “No, that’s good. Evaluators know when kids have been coached. I’m sure Peter spoke well of you,” she said, a hint of playfulness in her voice, and Tony smiled. “These interviews are  _ good _ for your case, Tony. Don’t get too worked up about them, alright?”

“Yeah, alright,” he conceded. “I suppose you’d know better than me.”

“Very true. We’ll talk again soon.”

He bid her goodbye, putting his phone on the counter while he finished drying off the dishes, feeling his mood rising from his lawyer’s easy assurance. He’d have to call Pep and Rhodey soon, maybe arrange a visit so he could update them, and also to just talk. It’d been a while since they all had dinner together.

Someone knocked on the door. Was the doorbell broken or what?

Toweling off his hands, Tony answered the door. On the other side was the man from the day before, wearing that same old hoodie. He pushed the hood down when Tony appeared, hair falling around his strong jaw. “Hi,” he said awkwardly. “It’s, uh, tomorrow.”

Oh, right. He’d almost forgotten. “Yep. Hello. Let’s just --” Tony stepped outside, closing the door behind him. It might be rude, but he wasn’t about to invite a random stranger inside the house his son was sleeping in. “Let’s go to the back. It nice out. We can talk on the deck.”

Once they were settled at the glass table adorning the deck, Tony fell back on proper etiquette to smooth out the interaction. “You might already know, but I’m Tony.” He gestured to himself with a half-smile. “We never officially met.”

The man cleared his throat. “Right. Uh, Bucky. Is my name.” He took in a breath. “I came to say that I was -- sorry. I didn’t know Steve was married, or had a kid. We’d only just bumped into each other and -- it was only the one kiss.”

Tony nodded slowly. This was one of the possibilities he’d expected when Bucky asked to talk. People didn’t like being implicated in the misdeeds of others. “I appreciate that.” He tilted his head. “You said you bumped into each other. You know Steve?”

Bucky nodded. “We grew up together. Had a bit of a thing in high school, but after graduation we went our separate ways. It was the first time I’d seen him in years." He shrugged self-consciously. For the first time, Bucky met Tony’s eyes, and Tony was struck. Bucky was beautiful, with his soulful gaze and stubbled jaw, hair framing his face and lightly tousled by the breeze… “I am really sorry. The Stevie I knew wouldn’t have done something like that.”

Tony ducked his head, hiding his sudden flush while reality slammed back into him. Bucky was Steve’s  _ high school sweetheart _ . And Steve ran back to him the moment he appeared, disregarding Tony and all they’d built together. “It’s fine. No, not fine. I shouldn’t have made the mistake of thinking Steve cared about me more than he did.” He sighed. “I guess neither of us really know him.”

When he looked up again, Bucky was looking at him with such a look of sadness and borderline pity that one of Tony’s old defense mechanisms burst from his mouth. “Ah, well. I’m back on the market, baby!” He winked, but at the same time he cringed at his own words, so it probably looked more like a wince. Bucky’s expression morphed into bafflement, which pre-therapy Tony would have counted as a win, but post-therapy Tony knew that deflecting from serious conversations with jokes and flirting was not-good. “Sorry. Bad joke.”

Bucky’s mouth quirked at one corner. “I’ve heard worse.”

The lack of judgement was a relief. Bucky was so genuine, open in a way that Tony rarely experienced from other people. There was kindness and understanding in that twitch of a smile, and just like that, Tony felt all his residual defenses fall away.

Tony was about to inquire on the nature of those worse jokes, but the glass door to the house slid open, a sleepy-looking Peter peering through. He didn’t even notice they had a visitor, marching over to Tony with his blankie and crawling into his lap. Tony let it happen, looking down at his son, curling up comfortably, in amusement. “Have a good nap?”

Peter nodded. 

“Ready for some lunch?”

He nodded again, though he appeared to have no intentions of moving. Tony huffed a laugh, and lifted him up with an exaggerated groan that made Peter giggle. He set his son on his feet, sending him back into the house to get dressed before lunch. Bucky stood up, too. “I’ll, uh, get going.”

“Stay for lunch,” Tony found himself saying. After a moment’s thought, he followed through, seeing the hesitant look on Bucky’s face. “Please. So we both can rest easy knowing there’s no bad blood between us.” When Bucky still hesitated, he added, “And it’s nice to have another grown-up around.”

“That would be nice after being married to Steve,” Bucky said, then looked mildly horrified. Tony stared at him. “Uh, bad joke?” Bucky said weakly.

Tony let out an unattractive snort-laugh. “Come on. I’ll make grilled cheese.”


	4. Soon Enough

Tony had Pepper and Rhodey over several days later. It would have been nice to have Peter there, too, but he was with Steve for the week. Until the final decision on the custody arrangement, they had a court-mandated temporary agreement to split Peter’s time between households. Which was fine. It was the ideal situation he was working toward, anyway.

Not having Peter around was strange. His son had been such an all-encompassing aspect of his life and the house that having him gone made everything feel empty. That, and the fact that it had been  _ forever _ since he’d truly spent time with either Pepper or Rhodey -- and now here they were at the same time! -- was probably why he’d gone a little overboard for dinner.

“Uh… are we having anyone else over?” asked Rhodey, peering over the edge of the table, where roasted chicken, potato salad, mashed potatoes, peas, green beans, garlic bread, and regular salad crowded in the middle, leaving just enough room for the plates.

Tony coughed. “No. I was experimenting. With food. Turns out I’m good at cooking. Never really took the time while living in the tower.”

Pepper smiled, squeezing his shoulder. “Well, it looks great.”

They sat to eat, Rhodey and Pepper making appreciative noises at the food, and enjoyed the time to catch up. “I got a cat,” Rhodey mentioned. “Orange one. Named him Petunia.” He took out his phone and showed them a picture of a tiny orange kitten perched on his shoulder mid-meow.

Pepper cooed. “It’s so small!”

Nodding sagely, Rhodey responded, “It’s a baby.”

“Small baby!”

The conversation drifted to Peter, how cute he was as a baby, how cute he was now, and Tony’s anxiety as his son grew up. “He's walking and talking and using the potty by himself and before I know it he’ll be going off to school and learning _swear words_ \--”

“He doesn’t already know swear words?” Rhodey teased. Tony gasped, putting a hand to his heart in mock-outrage.

“I do have some self control!”

“Since when?”

“I took a seminar.”

“Boys, please,” Pepper cut in. “This is Peter we’re talking about. He’s never going to swear.”

Tony pointed a fork at her. “That’s what he wants you to think.”

She snorted, knocking his fork away with her butter knife. “How is Peter?”

The mood at the table shifted. With a little sigh, Tony poked at his peas. “He doesn’t seem all that upset. Every now and then he’ll ask me when Papa’s coming home, but… I don’t think he really understands what’s happening. At least I hope not.”

His friends exchanged a glance. “He misses Steve, huh?” Rhodey asked.

“Yeah. I’m glad they’re getting some time together. I don’t know, maybe it’ll even soften Steve up enough to have a rational conversation about this whole custody thing.”

He saw the looks on their faces, and knew what they were thinking. Steve? Change his mind? Laughable. It wasn’t entirely unfair of them to believe that, but Tony couldn’t help but hold out the hope that he and Steve could come together, for Peter’s sake. He didn’t want a restart on their marriage, that ship had sailed and  _ sank _ , but Peter deserved to know that his parents would do anything for him. Even  _ put up with each other _ for however long it took to successfully co-parent.

Pepper carefully changed the subject, steering the conversation towards a pretty Pym Tech board member she’d been having meetings with. Meetings that included intensive flirting. “A little unprofessional, I know, but god, you should see her. Smart, too. I like listening to her talk.”

Tony whooped encouragingly. “Get it!”

Pepper looked the opposite of appreciative of his support. “How’ve you been enjoying the divorcee dating life?”

“Technically not divorced yet. It takes  _ forever _ for that paperwork to go through. I don’t think the hot local singles are ready for that.”

“Ah, come on, you can’t have been cooped up in your house all this time. There has to be someone that’s caught your eye. It’s time you rebounded,” Pepper said, in that I-worry-about-you-therefore-I’m-going-boss-you-around way that she has.

Tony tried not to look too guilty, but Rhodey’s eye narrowed in scrutiny. “Tony. You  _ haven’t _ been cooped up in this house, right?”

“Tony!” Pepper sighed. “Moving out of the tower was supposed to involve you entering society and behaving like a normal person. Do you even know your neighbors?”

He shrugged. “Steve did.” Steve was the one people liked. Tony had few true friends, and he didn’t exactly make them. More like they adopted him. Like a sad, kicked puppy. He’d worked to drop his armor in therapy, the armor he used to keep people at arm’s length, to let people see what they wanted, to be what people expected him to be, the one he’d learned to put on right along learning to talk, but opening up to a therapist was one thing. Opening up to the world was another.

He looked up at Pepper and Rhodey, warm with the knowledge that he had people who saw past the armor.

Maybe he should call his therapist again.

Rhodey gave a put-upon sigh. “I have… a friend. Who you might like.” Tony grinned, putting two hands under his chin and blinking sweetly at the man.

“Oh, Rhodey, darling, are you playing  _ matchmaker? _ ”

Rhodey responded by throwing a spoonful of mashed potatoes at him with a completely flat expression. “Jury's out on whether my friend will like  _ you. _ ”

“Excuse you, I am a delight.” He retaliated with his peas. Pepper make a face, looking down at the floor where they all scattered.

“You’re going to be finding peas for weeks,” she muttered. “You don't have to call up Rhodey’s friend right now. We know you have a lot going on right now. It's fine if you aren't ready to rebound yet. It’s just something to consider.”

“Though next time we all get together, we’re going somewhere that isn’t your house,” Rhodey promised. “You’re a hermit, Tony. Friends don’t let friends be hermits.”

“What if I  _ want  _ to be a hermit?” Tony grumped.

“You don’t.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyone got room for cheesecake? I made cheesecake.” Both his friends groaned in disagreement. “It’s got cherries on it,” he sing-songed, and that seemed to convince both of them to take a  _ small _ slice.

Tony couldn’t help his grin. So long as he had these two and Peter, there was nothing else he could ask for.

***

During the course of her career, Maria Hill had entered the homes of many parents, ranging from excessively friendly to overtly belligerent toward her, and used her expertise to provide valuable insights to many-a family court. For the most part, she was happy with the contributions she’d given, happy that she’d be integral to children staying with good parents and protected from bad parents.

If only it paid better.

She sighed down into her bowl of ramen, sitting on her couch under a blanket because she couldn’t afford to keep her apartment at a more comfortable temperature. Her laptop, perched on the arm of the couch, played a cheesy action movie about secret agents. The concept of secret agents was so good, but the movie industry could never seem to make it compelling...

Her phone rang and she hit pause on the movie, stretching out precariously to snatch it up from the end table. She bit her lip when she saw who was calling, and considered not answering it. In the end, she pressed the phone to her ear. “Vanko.”

“Maria,” he drawled, and she could almost hear his smirk. “I see we’ve chanced into the same case once again. Good to know you’re doing well.”

“As well as to be expected. What can I do for you?” She set her ramen aside, unappetizing now that it’d gone cold.

“You remember that case a few years back, what was it, Adams v. Loury? Lovely children, dreadful mother, cowardly father?”

Maria closed her eyes. “I remember.” It was the case Maria made the biggest mistake of her career. The mother  _ was _ dreadful. A bonafide narcissistic personality. The father was terrified of her, but still determined not to let her whisk away the kids. Determined enough to offer her a bribe in exchange for a favorable evaluation.

She was  _ already _ going to recommend that he have full custody, and the mother monitored visitation. The money was just… a little bonus. Others wouldn’t see it that way, and unfortunately, Vanko found out. He’d been the father’s lawyer, after all. She knew it would come back to bite her in the ass.

“Good, good. Now listen, I’m not one to ruin a promising woman’s career over one little mistake, so I’m sure I could be convinced not to report it, if you’d do me a little favor.”

Maria chewed her lip. If it got out that she’d accepted a bribe, her reputation would forever be stained. She could be accused of providing false testimony, maybe even have her license as a psychologist revoked. Maria loved her job, even if she had to eat ramen and wear a blanket sometimes. 

“...What do you want?”

“Don’t recommend split custody. My client, Mr. Rogers, is an excellent father, better than Stark will ever be. Make sure the judge understands that. If things go well, there’s even a payout in it for you.”

“Bribery as well as blackmail?” she said, hand twisting in the blanket over her lap. “Stepping up your game for this case, Vanko?”

“I’ve found people respond well to carrots and sticks. I hope things continue to go well for you, Maria.” With that, he hung up. Maria leaned back, throwing the phone to the other end of the couch, and sighed at the ceiling.

This case couldn’t be over soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy with the response this fic has gotten! Thanks so much for all your lovely comments and kudos!


	5. Not a Hermit

Tony went to a cafe. For one, to prove to Rhodey that he was not becoming a hermit, and two, because the empty house was starting to drive him a little crazy. He’d taken apart the clock in the living room because the ticking was drilling into his head like a… drill.

Three, his therapist’s office was down the block, and he’d gotten close by a bit early. He did end up calling his therapist after his dinner with Pepper and Rhodey. Upon hearing about the divorce and custody battle, Dr. Banner  _ strongly encouraged _ him to stop by. They’d made an appointment, and Tony was stir-crazy, so he left one-maybe-three hours earlier than he needed to.

Showing up early was not good, because that meant he might see Dr. Banner’s previous client leaving. People were weird in a way that they might brag about having the same therapist as Tony Stark.

Not that people really cared what he was doing these days. Stepping down from SI had massively dropped his public appeal. He was almost insulted. The fact that he was married only made it to a few gossip mags, and he suspected that the fact that he was divorced would only make it to those same mags, if a few more.

The bell above the door jingled as someone came inside, drawing Tony’s gaze away from the restless drumming of his fingers on his coffee mug for a quick glance. He did a double take when he recognized who it was,  _ still _ in that hoodie of his, and met his gaze with a jerky wave. Bucky returned the gesture, a little confused, and went up to the counter.

After ordering, he moved to Tony’s table. “Hey,” he greeted, shifting his weight to one foot. “I didn’t know you came here.”

“I don’t. I have -- a thing nearby. Waiting for it to start.”

Bucky nodded, and fidgeted with the end of his jacket as he searched for something else to say. Tony understood. Unplanned social interaction could be a nightmare. 

“You wanna sit?” he asked. Their last get together was nice, in his opinion. Despite the rather not-good circumstances they’d met under, there really wasn’t any underlying resentment on his part. He, of all people, knew first impressions weren’t everything. Even the really bad ones.

Bucky slumped into the chair across from him. “Thanks. Uh. How’s the kid?” Eating lunch together with such a little kid seemed to be a new experience for Bucky, who looked at Peter with mixed amazement and nervousness. Peter showed him his cars and chattered about a cartoon he watched about pre-schooled kids who turned into super-powered monsters at nighttime. Peter loved meeting people, and by the time the food was gone, Bucky had loosened up enough to engage him.

They hadn’t had time to talk about much else. Peter was a joy and he could  _ talk _ , filling up all the empty spaces with his enthusiasm. Tony wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Peter’s great,” he said with a smile. “Still loves cars and  _ Super Monsters.  _ He really liked having you for company.”

“I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” Bucky’s order was called out. He collected it and came back. “So, uh, how are things?”

“Mh. You offering to let me vent?” Tony teased, then waved it away with a grin. “Nah, things are rough, but the final decision on custody is next Tuesday, and my lawyer is pretty optimistic, so.”

Bucky blinked, drawing a circle around the rim of his drink with his finger. “Custody?” He lifted the drink to his lips.

“Yeah. Thought you knew. Steve is suing me for full custody of Peter.”

Stopping mid-drink, Bucky furrowed his brow. “He’s -- really?” He set the drink down, frowning down at it.

“Yeah. Get the wrong order?”

“Yeah, I -- I think so. It’s sweeter than normal.” He took another sip, made a face, shrugged, and continued to drink it. “Why’s Steve doing that?

Tony sighed, slowly slumping down to the table as he released the air until he was face-down against the wood. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s got a thing for the judge and this is part of his grand plot to woo her.”

Bucky snorted. “Uh, what?”

“I don’t know,” Tony repeated. “It’s all a mess.” Another sigh. “I think he regretted marrying me the moment he said ‘I do’.”

There was silence in response, so Tony peeled his face from the table to see Bucky’s stricken face. “That… sucks.”

Tony laughed, pressing his face back down, shoulders shaking. A tear leaked from his eye that he casually flicked away. “Yeah, it really does.” He forced himself to sit back up. “Enough of that. Let’s talk about something else. What do you do?”

“Uh, my job? I’m a chemical engineer.”

Tony perked right up, clasping his hands together jovially.  _ Science.  _ “Tell me everything.”

And tell him everything Bucky did. He wasn’t much of a talker, but Tony knew from experience that  _ everyone _ had something they could talk about for hours. It was all about finding those people willing to listen. Tony listened, feeding off Bucky’s excitement -- which was a bit more muted than how  _ Tony  _ got excited, but the way Bucky’s eyes shined said everything -- as Bucky spoke about his research into water treatment using the cleansing properties of prickly pear cacti.

“You always been into science?” Tony asked.

“Oh, no. I thought I hated science as a kid. Turns out what I hated was science  _ class. _ ”

Tony huffed a laughed. Children everywhere continued to be amazed at how schooling could turn their greatest passions into the worst things on the face of the planet. He'd never really had the same experiences, being as smart as he is and born to very, very wealthy parents, but he sympathized with losing passion for things by being expected to do them, and do them a certain way.

He should home school Peter. 

“What made you see the light?” Tony asked.

“Started with house chores, actually. My mom told me not to mix the cleaning supplies together, since it could be dangerous, and I wanted to know how and why. Got to reading, and just kept on reading more. Did some of the experiments I read about. Learned more about chemistry in that one week than I did in all of school, and I loved it.”

Tony laughed again, head rested on one arm, looking over at Bucky, who still wrinkled his nose every time he took a sip of his drink. Hair swept back and tucked behind his ears, soft eyes warm and sparkling, tongue darting out to wet his lips that probably tasted like his sweetened coffee --

With a jolt, he came back to himself, realizing he’d been staring. Bucky must have noticed, too, his cheeks flushed as he ducked his head slightly. Tony cleared his throat, dying a little on the inside. “Uh.” Come on, Tony, get it together. This isn’t high school. “Did --”

“Do you wanna have dinner?” Bucky rushed out. “Uh, sometime? Have dinner sometime?” 

Oh. “Yes,” he said, before he could think and convince himself that it was a  _ bad idea _ . “I’d like that.”

They exchanged numbers, Tony glancing at the time when he received his back, eyes widening. “Oh, fuck, I’m late.” He stood up, rushing to say goodbye but reluctant to actually leave. “So sorry. I’ll -- text you, er, call you, either -- and make those dinner plans. I’m really sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Bucky smiled, waving him on. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, phone held to his chest, smiling back broadly. “See you soon.”

Then he booked it out of there, hurrying to meet his appointment. Banner was not going to be happy with him. Tony hadn’t been late to a session since -- well, ever. This was how bad habits began!

Even as he worried, he couldn’t help the smile playing across his face.


	6. The Coward's Way Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has three perspectives!  
> I love reading your comments and I can't believe this has almost 200 kudos! Hopefully this will start to answer some of the concerns you guys have. Steve's character growth is going to take several knocks to the head, and those knocks start here.

Sitting in his office, enjoying his lunch of oxtail soup, the strong sour smell permeating the room, with a desert of caramel fudge -- a rare indulgence -- Ivan Vanko preened his success. Destroying the Stark legacy had for so long felt a pipe dream, especially once the Stark in question dropped off the radar to pursue _marriage_ and _child rearing._ How dull of him.

The day Vanko heard that Tony Stark’s picturesque little life was finally coming apart was the first time in a long time he’d felt a directed purpose in his life. It was fate that Stark’s beau wandered into his practice looking for a good attorney, filled with long-buried resentment towards Stark that Vanko was absolutely _delighted_ to put to good use.

He was a lawyer, after all, and well-versed in making his plans fall from someone else’s mouth. Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite make it happen before the terms of the divorce were finalized. His client was a headstrong man and not likely to tread down a path laid out for him. Unless he believed it to be his idea all along.

It would have been poetic justice to ruin Stark financially, as Stark’s father had once down to Vanko’s, but, he supposed, ripping away his child was a good alternative.

Great, in fact.

Though it was a struggle initially, with his client more focused on making the choices that would end the process as quickly as possible, but a few careful words from Vanko about being permanently tied to Stark through a child -- and that resentment just _burned_ Rogers from the inside.

Rogers was not willing to give up his child in order to cut ties with Stark forever. He could, however, take the child and ensure they _both_ cut those ties forever. And after a bit more wheedling from Vanko, Rogers even managed to convince himself it was the best thing for the child.

Stark was raised in a terrible environment that he would model when raising Peter. Stark was a recovering alcoholic who could fall back into the gutter at any moment. Now that Stark was single, he may fall back into his old pattern of sexual promiscuity, bringing countless strangers into his home. Stark was a man severely traumatized by torture in a war zone as an untrained civilian. What if he had a bad day, or week, and couldn’t handle taking care of the child?

Of course, his client thought, relief moving across his face at having a justification. Of course, it was in the child’s best interests. This was something that had to be done. Peter was young. If all went to plan, he’d grow and forget he’d ever had another father. This wouldn't even be a bad memory the boy carried with him.

Vanko smiled, popping a fudge square into his mouth. 

For such a stubborn man, he mused, Rogers just might be a coward. A coward who hid behind strong words and a one-track mind. He did spend many years in a marriage he was happy with, slowly building that wonderful resentment of his instead of leaving, only capable of facilitating a divorce by driving Stark to make that decision for him.

When his client told him that little tale, of running into that childhood ghost, the memories sparking life in him for the first time in years, oh, he wasn’t even thinking, Rogers claimed, bringing the man to a home he knew his husband was soon to return to, and find them there, caught in the act.

Rogers didn’t care about his old friend. The poor man was used. A convenient catalyst for the plot of a cowardly man, too afraid to be the one to back down. Angry enough at Stark for being the one to stick things out to do something he knew would hurt. Happy enough to do it on a day his child happened to be staying with a friend of Stark’s. Roger’s knew what he’d been doing that day, but he’d never admit that, least of all to himself. Because he was a coward.

It was a good thing he had Vanko here to stand up for him, or he might have gone along and done whatever Stark wanted.

Day after tomorrow, they’d all witness the first time a Stark didn’t get what he wanted. He couldn’t _wait._

***

“You can’t be serious,” Rhodey said, scrutinizing him with a sharp gaze. “You’re not serious, right?”

“... As a heart attack,” Tony replied, burying his face in his hotdog to avoid that look. Taking a walk through Central Park was Rhodey’s idea, claiming that Tony lived a sedentary lifestyle, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d wake up one day with chronic lower back pain and heart disease. The bastard.

“That’s not funny.” Rhodey gestured pointedly with his own hotdog, making some of the toppings fall off onto the brown walkway.

“Shut up, I’m hilarious.”

“You’re not dating your ex-husband’s mistress,” Rhodey said, knocking him with his elbow. “I can’t believe you.”

“Is he called a mistress if he’s a man?” Tony wondered aloud. Rhodey elbowed him a little harder, eyes wide. A short gust of wind knocked even more of his toppings off, forcing him to use both hands to hold his food, and saving Tony from future hostile elbows.

“That is not the point.”

“It’s fine, Rhodey. It’s not like he knew he was _aiding and abetting_. They didn’t even have sex. Not even any heavy petting.” He paused, a new thought crossing his mind. “Well, at least not since high school.” He'd have to ask Bucky about that. Or was it better to leave it unsaid? No, it was going to drive him crazy thinking about it and not knowing.

“ _What._ ”

“He’s a good guy, Rhodey. You’d like him. He talks to his cacti plants just like you do.” Tony grinned at Rhodey’s sour look. “Really, Rhodey, it’s fine. A little weird, we’ll make sure to heavily edit the ‘how we met’ story for most audiences, but come on, who doesn’t do that these days?”

Rhodey fixed him with another look. Finally he let out a short sigh. “You know what? Fine. I’ll be happy for you. I reserve the right to kick your ass for being a dumbass if this ends badly.”

Tony grinned, mouth full, and Rhodey shoved his face away.

***

He couldn’t do this.

Steve Rogers stared down at the artwork his son had handed him, nearly vibrating with excitement while he waited for Steve to react. There was an orange sun in the corner, and a rainbow across the sky. A few butterfly-like shapes dotted around, and in the center were three smiling stick figures, the two taller ones each holding one of the smaller one’s hands.

“This is great, sweetheart,” he forced through his closing throat, smiling down at Peter. “Very colorful.”

“Can we put it on the fridge? Daddy’s fridge has _lots_ of my pictures but you didn’t have any yet!”

Right. Tony. Peter's other parent. That Steve was trying to take away from him.

“Yeah, let’s put it on the fridge,” he answered, glancing back down at it. Shaking himself, he walked with Peter to the kitchen and stuck in the middle of the fridge. “There. Perfect.”

“Perfect!” Peter parroted. “I’m gonna make more pictures!” He zoomed back out of the kitchen, returning to his place in the living room, where the coffee table was covered in paper and scattered crayons.

Steve sat carefully on the couch behind him, watching Peter hum as a colored. The feeling of the walls closing in around him greeted him like an old friend, the sensation of being somewhere he didn't know how he'd gotten to, and not knowing how to get out. He could only freeze in place.

God, what was he doing?


	7. Sketch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This chapter gets a bit intense, with a major character being the (off-screen) victim of gun violence and some heavy parental angst. Just as a heads up!  
> Also: Dun dun duuuun!

Tony adjusted his tie and ran his hands down the front of his suit. He didn’t wear them often anymore, didn’t have the need, and he couldn’t say he missed it. Wearing them felt like stepping back into half a decade ago, when he was Tony Fucking Stark, head of Stark Industries, miles above and ahead the rest of the world, self-destructive and desperately lonely in that way people who wear full-time armor are.  He didn’t need to be that man anymore.

His lawyer smiled encouragingly. The were sitting outside the room the hearing would be held in, along with Rhodey and Pepper, there to defend his honor to the judge, in addition to Dr. Banner, who’d chastised Tony for not bringing him in earlier. 

“They insinuated you were mentally unfit to parent, and you didn’t bring your  _ therapist _ in to weigh in?” Dr. Banner looked at him dubiously over the rim of his glasses. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?”

Tony had only shrugged sheepishly. “I thought it might… prove their point? That I had a therapist?”

Dr. Banner only stared witheringly at him until Tony promised to bring him in for the final hearing. His lawyer was delighted at having an expert on her client’s long-term mental health to call on.

Now they only had to wait on the judge. Oh, and Steve. His lawyer and sole character witness (his friend Sam -- Tony didn’t know him all that well, but he’d seemed alright) sat down the hall from the rest of them, Steve’s lawyer periodically checking his phone and growing increasingly agitated as their time allotment drew closer.

“You think he chickened out?” Rhodey asked quietly, nodding to them. Tony frowned.

“The babysitter probably fell through or something,” he muttered back. Was Steve going to drag this out even longer by forcing them to reschedule?

A phone ring, all of them turning their heads towards the source. Sam dug his phone from his pocket, smiling apologetically. He checked the screen, and Tony heard him murmur “It’s Steve,” to the lawyer before answering.

They all half-tuned in, exchanging knowing glances and preparing to have to leave. Steve must be calling to say he couldn’t make it, they communicated through exasperated glances. The look slowly dawning on Sam’s face, however, said different, and Tony froze with sudden foreboding. That was not a good look.

The call ended. Sam slowly lowered the phone, swallowing as he addressed all the expectant gazes. “That was the hospital,” he said. “Steve’s been shot.”

Getting to the hospital was a blur. Pepper left to get Peter, who was,  _ thank god _ , safe in Steve’s apartment with the babysitter. Steve had been on his way to them when -- it had happened.

He was in the waiting room, Rhodey’s arm around him and Dr. Banner’s calming presence to his left, Steve in surgery,  _ critical condition, _ feeling very, very unsure of how to feel. He’d been married to Steve for almost five years, after all. Had loved him, at one point. But with all that happened since then… And what was he supposed to tell Peter?

His phone rang, and he answered it right away, already knowing who it was. “Is Peter okay?”

“Yes, he’s alright,” Pepper answered softly. “He’s here with me now. How’s everything on your end?” she asked, careful about what she said with Peter listening in.

Tony sighed. “Not good, Pep. I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re doing everything you can do. Do you want us to come to you?”

After a moment’s hesitation, the desires to get Peter close and keep him as far away from this as possible warring in his head, he said, “No, I -- I’m sorry to spring this on you, but could you keep him for the night? Just until we know -- what’s going to happen.”

“Of course, Tony. Want to talk to him?”

Shoulders sagging in relief, Tony sent a quick line of gratitude to the universe for giving him people he could lean on, and made a promise to himself that he’d always return the favor. “Thank you, Pep, seriously. Put him on.”

Shuffling on the other line, then, “Hi, Daddy. Am I staying with Auntie Pep?”

“Yeah, buddy,” Tony said, forcing excitement into his voice. “Won’t that be fun?”

“Yeah!” Peter said. “Where did Papa go?”

Tony swallowed, mind flashing back to the days after he’d first kicked Steve out, and Peter asked that same question. He hadn’t known how to respond then. How was he supposed to know what to say now? “He’s, uh. He had to go away for a while.”

“Oh,” Peter said, and Tony hurt at the sadness he heard. “Is he coming back soon?”

Tony closed his eyes, leaning his head back onto the wall behind him. How could he answer that? How could he comfort his child without saying something that might turn out to be a lie? “I know he’ll do everything he can to get back to you soon.”

“Okay,” Peter accepted. “Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, buddy. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

He hung up the phone, sighing heavily. Rhodey squeezed his shoulder. Smiling at his friend tiredly, he slumped down in the stiff hospital chair and prepared to wait.

A while passed. Someone came in to tell them that Steve was stabilized, and the doctors were now working on repairing the rest of the damage. It could still take a turn, but Steve was likely to pull through. Tony thought he might faint.

Another hour or so passed until the police arrived.

“You’re the husband?” an older, balding man asked gruffly. Tony did his best to straighten out his clothes and hair.

“Uh, I, yes. Technically.”

“Technically?” The grumpy one’s partner, a slightly younger balding man, asked, notepad in hand.

“We’re divorced. Hasn’t gone through yet, though.” He rubbed a hand down his face. Both cops exchanged a glance.

“And where were you when the shooting occurred?” the younger one asked. “Have to ask, sorry.” Grumpy cop grunted, probably in response to the apology.

“It’s alright. I’ve with --” He gestured around to the three others sitting with him, Rhodey, Dr. Banner and Sam, “all these guys since around eleven this morning.”

Younger cop jotted it down in his notepad. Grumpy cop seemed unfazed. Younger cop pulled a folded paper from his shirt pocket. “There was a witness at the scene that described the shooter to our sketch artist. Would you mind taking a look, see if you recognize him?”

Tony nodded, taking the paper. Oh, god, what if he did know the shooter? Rhodey bumped shoulders with him in solidarity. He opened the sketch with slightly shaking hands.

For a moment, he could only stare. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked between the cops, and the sketch, vaguely hoping it was some kind of joke. He had to be mistaken. But it was there on the paper. That long hair, unkempt and brushing along his jaw. That mouth he’d watched speak for hours, seen that small smile of his, only now it was twisted into a frown. Those warm eyes, flat on the paper.

Rhodey noticed his reaction, face scrunching in concern. “Tony? You know him?”

“I --” Tony croaked. “It’s Bucky.”


	8. Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's in hot water, and not just with the law.

Tony found himself in a police station, hunched miserably over the cold table in the interrogation room. They took his phone, so he was unreachable if there were any updates on Steve or if Peter needed him for something. He ran in hands through his hair, tugging in agitation. 

Grumpy cop entered, carrying a small cup of coffee and a thick manila file. He seemed just as frowny as before, but underneath all that, Tony got the sense that the man feeling rather smug about something, by the way he casually sipped the coffee and slapped down the file like it was a dead bird and he was a cat.

After a long pause of silence, Tony sighed and took the bait. “What’s this?”

“Everything we got on your pal _Bucky_ ,” he said, patting it lovingly. “Put the file together myself after we ran the check on his face and name.”

Tony dropped his gaze to the file, swallowing heavily. It was a _thick_ file. “Why don’t we skip the reading assignment and you can just paraphrase for me?” Tony said, proud of how calm he sounded, how sure of himself. He didn’t have anything to do with this and he wasn’t going to let some dinosaur with a stick up his ass play games with him.

Grumpy cop was unperturbed. “Don’t worry.” He pushed the file closer to Tony pointedly. “It has lots of pictures in it.”

Tony was curious by nature. He was fueled by a lifelong love of science, of knowing deep within his heart that every question could be answered if he found the right place to look, and he was fully willing to chase those answers to the edges of the universe.

Tony didn’t want to open the file.

The metal door opened, Younger cop leaning inside. He nodded to Tony, then pointedly jerked his head at his partner. Grumpy cop heaved a sigh, face contorting to look entirely put-open, and followed the other cop out. The door clicked shut and Tony was left alone again, the file in front of him screaming.

So Bucky had a past, then. An extensive one. He ran a finger down the spine of it, wondering if it was even his right to look inside. If Bucky really had done what the police said he did, then he should look, right? He should look so he could know the kind of man Bucky really was, and be prepared to… deal with that, when the time came. If Bucky really did hurt Steve, then he should read the file and not feel a hint of guilt about it.

It was that ‘if’ that was getting him. He couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t known Bucky for long, and obviously there was still a lot he didn’t know about him, but Tony couldn’t get a grasp on _why._ Whenever Tony had talked about Steve, Bucky never seemed angry. More confused and sad. And not even, “Might do something stupid soon” kind of sad.

Grumpy cop stormed back in, followed by his partner at a much slower pace, looking a lot less smug and lot more pissed. He marched right over and unceremoniously flipped the file open. Startled, Tony’s eyes instantly drew toward the contents.

There... were a lot of pictures. Of crime scenes. He hadn’t wanted to see, but now that the choice was taken from him, he couldn’t look away.

“Your pal has quite the resume, I have to say,” Grumpy cop said, not at all sounding impressed. “Getting in all kinds of trouble for all his adult life, at least. Suspect to murder, assault, theft, arson… organized crime affiliations.”

Tony ran a hand over his face. He didn’t respond.

Grumpy cop sat across from him, leaving the file open. There were more pages to look through, more pictures under the ones he could already see, but Tony felt he’d seen enough. Hopefully grumpy cop agreed.

“Mr. Stark,” Younger cop said, and Tony jumped. “Why did you and Mr. Rogers file for divorce?”

Tony licked his dry lips. “There were a lot of reasons.”

“Any particular one stand out?” The cop pressed.

“I--” Tony paused, his brain finally rebooting after the shock of the file’s content. “Am I a suspect?”

The cops exchanged a glance. “We’re exploring all avenues of questioning,” was Younger cop’s non-answer. “Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated.”

Well. Cops _would_ be well-versed in doublespeak, wouldn’t they? Interrogation involved manipulation. Tony took a calming breath and reminded himself that neither of these two were his friend. Better safe than sorry, in situations like this.

“I’m invoking my right to remain silent,” Tony said. “And I’d like to call my lawyer.”

Grumpy cop leaned forward, mouth twisting deeply. “We tracked that number you gave us. There was nothing to find. Your friend’s a ghost.” His eyes narrowed. “I think you know where he is. I think you and him planned this together, made sure to do it on a day you’d be surrounded by people giving you an alibi. I think he went underground once he got the job done. You’re still in contact with him, aren’t you?” 

Tony said nothing.

Because whoever tried to kill Steve had failed. Once he woke up, none of this would matter. He’d tell them all what really happened. Bucky going underground… he didn’t know what to think about that. He didn’t know anything, really, and he wasn’t someone who liked to speak on something before he knew all the facts.

They let him call his lawyer. She told him to sit tight until she got there.

He buried his head in his hands and wished for this to all be over. Why couldn’t it just be _over_? He wanted to go home and hug Peter. He wanted to sleep for a week straight. He wanted... to slap Steve. He wanted to slap the man who'd cheated on him, who'd blamed him for their marriage failing, who'd tried to take his son away from him. And, maybe a little a irrationally, he wanted to slap Steve for getting shot. Hell, Steve had slapped him once, it was only fair he'd get to do it back.

He was so _done_ with being _mature_ about everything. Steve was a fuckhead who liked to blame Tony for everything, and kept fucking up Tony's life, and if he survived, Tony was going to kill him.

And Bucky was next. A murderous criminal background might not be first date conversation, but it would have been nice if he’d mentioned it at any point _before_ ducking out of existence as the lead suspect in the attempted murder of Tony’s ex-husband.

When he was done killing them, they had better damn apologize. He was _done_.


	9. Contingency

It was only the day before the final hearing when Vanko’s client caved. He got the call at around nine at night, Rogers apologetically letting him know that he didn’t plan on going through with the case, and was going to tell the judge he was willing to agree to split custody. Vanko thanked him for letting him know and hung up.

Perhaps Rogers had a moral awakening. How tragic. Vanko had witnessed many people with such  _ potential  _ in his lifetime, only to find they were entrapped by something as silly and fickle as morality. Why so many chose to weigh themselves down so much mystified him. What was the purpose of life, if not to shape the world to your liking, no matter the cost?

This wasn’t the end. Vanko thought this might happen -- it was never good to disregard the autonomy of his pawns. He had a contingency.

It started with James Barnes. Vanko had only meant to keep an eye on Stark, to monitor his case for custody and pick up on details of his life that Vanko could use for ammunition -- Stark’s shut-in lifestyle, for example, was an excellent selling point for painting Stark as being controlled by his trauma -- but those photos of Stark  _ making eyes _ at James Barnes at his home, and on what looked to be a honest to god _date_ landing on his desk was like manna falling from heaven.

He’d never personally met the man, but Barnes was a man with a reputation in some very dark circles. No one was sure where his loyalty lie, other than with himself, but it was common knowledge that wherever Barnes appeared, mayhem would follow, only for the man to melt back into the shadows before the dust even settled.

Until a few years back, when Barnes was taken down on an assault and battery charge. Police suspected him in other cases, though they didn’t even suspect half the things he’d done, according to those dark gossip circles, but nothing would hold up in court except for the one. It was a miracle they’d gotten him on anything.

After that, rumor said he was retired. 

And being invited into Tony Stark’s home, apparently. How  _ wonderful _ . How useful, should the time come.

When Rogers backed out, Vanko only had to make one phone call to set his contingency into motion. It paid to be prepared.

***

Three shots and the target dropped. Three might be excessive, but it was meant to look like a crime of passion. A jilted ex-lover defending the honor of his shiny new boyfriend. Not as if it hadn’t happened before.

Natalie turned her back on the target, lying in the alley, just out of the line of sight for nearby street cameras. She flipped open her burner phone and dialed.

“Hello?” a man’s voice answered, sounding distracted. She tutted.

“I didn’t expect you to actually answer,  _ снежинка _ .” 

Silence on the other end. James always was a man of such few words. It was one of the reasons she’d never tried to kill him. Well. Not  _ flagrantly _ . Otherwise it would have been an insult to them both.

“Didn’t expect to hear from me?” she asked. “Hm. I suppose not.”

“I’m hanging up,” he grumbled.

“I don’t think you want to do that,  _ снежинка _ . I have important information for you. Consider it me paying you back for taking the fall for me back in the day.” She did have  _ some _ sense of loyalty. Just not one that required her going to prison. James shouldn't have acted so surprised.

She heard him exhale loudly. A smirk touched her lips. 

“Alright. What is it?”

“I’m afraid you’ve gotten in with the wrong sort. I was paid to take out an old, dear friend of yours and tell the police it was you! What have you gotten into, Jamie?” she said, playing the scolding mother. Something she knew got under his skin.

“What have you done, Natalie?” Leave it to James, always assuming she’d done something. She  _ had _ , but he didn’t need to assume it. It was, frankly, a little rude. 

“That’s all the time I have, unfortunately,” she said. “Don’t expect any more favors from me.”

Hanging up, she dialed again. 

“You’ve reached 911, what’s your emergency?”

Channeling a frightening young lady, her voice wavered when she told the operator, “Yes, oh my god, I just saw a man get shot!”

***

After Tony’s lawyer swooped in, Grumpy cop was a lot more sulky. Younger cop just seemed to be getting exponentially more tired as time went on. All in all, Tony was not impressed, and by the look on her face, neither was his lawyer. They asked a few more questions, but with Tony’s lawyer being completely willing to advise him to stay quiet, they eventually released him.

“I don’t think I made myself look great in there,” Tony mentioned to her as he gathered all of what the station confiscated from him.

“They’re only pissy because they know they don’t have anything on you. Innocent people need lawyers just as much as guilty people, if not more, because sometimes the justice system cares more about finding someone to blame than finding the  _ right _ person to blame.” She sighed. “They actually  _ know _ who the perp was this time, and they’re still putting you through the goddamn circus.”

“I’m not so sure they do,” Tony murmured. They walked out together, his lawyer casting his a concerned glance.

“Don’t speculate about the case in front of them. It makes them think you have insider info if you manage to get something right.”

Tony sighed. “So, what, they’re just handcuff-happy?”

“I also think Detective Greene has it in for you.”

“Who?”

They pause at the end of the block. They sun was starting to go down. He’d been at the station for almost the entire day.

“Older guy with the bad attitude. I don’t know what his deal was but he looked at you like the gum on his shoe.”

Tony sighed again, louder and longer. “Well, there is a pretty long list of way people hate me. Some of it not entirely unjustified.”

“Shouldn’t affect how he does his job.”

They said their goodbyes. Tony ran a tired hand through his hair and called a cab to take him back to the hospital. He’d told Rhodey and Banner to go home once the cops made it clear they wanted to take him in, but he knew Sam had stayed. Tony should’ve gotten his number.

Just as he had the thought, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a text from an unknown number.

_ Hey. It’s Bucky. I didn’t try to kill Steve. Can we talk? _


	10. People Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternating between Bucky and Tony's first date and their covert meeting after last chapter' text message, in the same location.

Their first official date was in a cozy hole-in-the-wall that Tony had never heard of, but Bucky swore by their pelmeni. Tony had to admit, it was good pelmeni. 

There was almost no one else there. The lights were soft, the table small. It was quiet, intimate.

“How did you hear about this place?” Tony asked, mouth still half-full and mostly unintelligible. He covered his mouth in embarrassment and asked again once he’d swallowed. Bucky only grinned good-naturedly.

“Some friends from college. We lost touch, but this is still one of my favorite places to eat.” 

***

The place was nearly empty when Tony showed up. The owner, a sweet burly man whose parents were Russian immigrants, showed him to a dim backroom where Bucky was waiting, sitting at a table that was already set. The owner politely backed from the room, door falling shut, leaving Tony standing just inside the room.

“Hey, Tony,” Bucky said quietly. “Do you want to sit?”

Tony did, glancing down at the spread of food. The pork pelmeni smelled tempting, but he kept his hands in his lap. “So. You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

***

“The thing with being 14 in college is that people either wanted to punch me or, just, I don't know,  open my juice boxes for me. I wasn’t a big fan of either. Thank god I had Rhodey.” Tony leaned on one hand, smiling nostalgically. “I was such a little shit.”

“I’m pretty sure my entire college experience was a caffeine-fueled lucid nightmare. I can’t imagine adding puberty to that equation.” Bucky gestured with his fork, grimacing in a show of sympathy. “Let only having a  _ roommate _ going through puberty."

Tony gasped loudly. “You’re such a snarky asshole, you know that?” Bucky shrugged unapologetically, quirking an eyebrow. Tony laughed. “God, I can’t believe Rhodey  _ adopted _ snotty little teenage me.”

“I can believe it. Little gangly Tony, too smart for his own good, shows up at your doorstep? It’s like taking in a cute little puppy that pees everywhere and chews up shoes,” Bucky teased.

“... I’m very offended right now.”

“Now that you’re all grown up and house-trained, I bet he got an _actual_ puppy.”

Tony frowned in faux annoyance. “A kitten.”

“No kidding?” Bucky grinned. “Does it tear up his curtains?”

***

Bucky seemed to wilt the tiniest bit. “I’m sorry I didn’t -- Sorry I wasn’t honest about my past. You were just-- you were so-- and I barely remember what  _ normal _ feels like, but being with you was like… finding myself again. I didn’t want to say anything that would --” He sighed, cutting himself off. “I still should have told you. I’m sorry.”

Tony searched his face, watching Bucky’s gaze flicker between meeting his eyes and staring down at the table, one hand fiddling with a fork. “So it’s true? Did you... were you a...” Tony struggled to find the words to ask.

“Killer?” Bucky finished for him, eyes firmly on the table. “I was. At least, part of me was.”

Tony furrowed his brow. “Part of you?”

Bucky clicked his tongue, nodding. “You ever hear of Phineas Gage?”

***

“Steve and I caused a ruckus back in school. People laughed most of it off until they found out we were gay boys in gay love who gay kissed each other. We were the first out at our high school.”

Tony snorted in laughter. “Figures. You seem the trailblazing type.” He took a sip of his drink. “It was love, then? With you and Steve?”

Bucky made a considering look. “Yeah, I think so. I don’t mind that he was my first love. He was my best friend for my whole life, at that point, and a real good guy.” Frowning, he added, “I don’t know why he’s… like this, now.”

Tony shrugged, now eager to move on from talking about his ex.  _ Both _ of their ex. God, that was weird. “Sometimes people change.”

“Yeah. I guess they do.”

***

“Phineas Gage?” Tony narrowed his eyes in thought. “It rings a bell.”

“He’s a popular case study from way back when. He got a pipe through his head, clean through, and survived, but his whole personality changed cuz of the damage to his brain.”

Tony nodded as Bucky spoke, remembering now that Bucky reminded him. “Are you saying you got a pipe through your head?”

Bucky’s lip twitched at the corner like he was trying not to smile. Clearing his throat, he replied, “No. I was in college when I started -- having these nightmares. About doing bad things. I started drinking, missing class. My friends stopped talking to me cuz I kept blowing up at them, threatening them. Eventually I dropped out and started doing those bad things for real. Got money for it. Eventually I got set up to take the fall for someone else, and I went to jail.”

Bucky took a breath. “I started to get sick. Headaches that I had before just kept getting worse. I was throwing up all the time. At the same time I was coming more and more undone. Got in fights. I was just… filled with this rage, you know? It got harder and harder to think past it.

“They sent me to the doctor and they found a mass in my brain. When they took it out… I wasn’t all the way back to who I was before it all started. I don’t think I’ll ever be. But I’m better than what I was.” He sighed. “Finished my degree in jail. When I got out, all I wanted was to put it all behind me.”

Tony stared at the man across from him, carefully sorting through the information he’d been given. “It wasn’t your fault, then,” he breathed. Bucky’s eyes snapped up.

***

“Alright, fine. Flying or super strength?”

“Flying, obviously,” Tony said. “I’d fly all over the city. Say bye-bye to traffic!”

Bucky looked unimpressed. “You’re choosing your superpower over how it helps you avoid traffic?” He clicked his tongue. “Unfortunately, the correct answer was super strength.”

“What? There’s no correct answer, it’s supposed to be opinion.”

“And yet you still chose wrong, doll.”

“You know what? I reject your false dichotomy. I want flying  _ and _ super strength. I’d Superman the hell out of New York. Peter would love that.”

Bucky smiled. “Sounds great.”

***

“It was still me, Tony. My hands.” Bucky said softly. “I remember all of it. I’m still changed by it.”

Tony cautiously reached across the table, placing a hand on Bucky’s. “Something happened outside of your control and fucked up your life. It made you fuck up a lot of other people’s lives, too. But it’s over now, and you’re trying to be better. Isn’t that all anyone can ask for?”

Bucky stared down at their touching hands. “I don’t know.”

Tony laughed wetly. “Me either.”

***

They left slowly, meandering out the door, shoulder to shoulder and heads tilted closely together as they carried on their conversation. Tony could feel Bucky’s breath on his skin, lighting up the area with goosebumps.

It was dark when they got outside. They paused at the door, reluctant to bring the night to an official close. “We should do this again,” Tony said. Bucky smiled, head tilted.

“That sounds perfect.”

Then was the most natural thing in the world, it seemed to Tony, when they closed what little space remained between them, lips pressing together sweetly.

***

“So--” Tony licked his lips. “What’s it all got to do with Steve?”

“I know who did it. And I think I know why.”


	11. The Autonomy of Pawns

Peter was quiet today. He’d been a bit subdued ever since Pepper dropped him off back at Tony’s house, even so much as going to sleep on time. Peter  _ never _ went to sleep on time. He was a ball of endless energy.

Tony watched him from the kitchen, fixing up some sandwiches for lunch. Peter was in the living room, lying on the carpet, playing with his cars by stacking as many of them as possible on top of each other, then pushing them over. He didn’t seem to be having much fun with it.

Once he finished cutting up Peter’s sandwich, he set the plates on the table and called Peter in. Peter obeyed, without any needling to try convincing Tony that he could play  _ and _ eat at the same time. Tony frowned in concern.

“What’re you thinking about, buddy?” Tony asked lightly. Peter shrugged, taking a tiny bite of his cut-into-triangles ham and cheese. “Are you sad about Papa?”

Peter’s mouth pinched. After a moment, he asked sullenly, “How come he always leaves?”

Guilt stabbed through Tony’s heart. Peter didn’t have a lot of life experience, but what little he’d learned about the world now included  _ Papa always leaves _ . First because Tony kicked him out, and because of now, both instances of Steve being gone from Peter’s life for long stretches of time.

Tony could point out that Steve didn’t  _ always _ leave. That he’d been around for most of Peter’s life, and now there was only twice when he had to be away. He didn’t think that would make his son feel better.

“He doesn’t want to leave you, honey. Sometimes he just has to. I promise it’s not going to be like this forever, okay? Papa loves you.”

Peter nodded, taking another tiny bite of his sandwich. Releasing an internal sigh, Tony hoped his words would be sufficient for now. Until Steve got back, and things could progress back to stability, he didn’t know if Peter would believe him. For now, the hospital had him in the ICU, in a medically induced coma, and Tony didn’t think Peter needed to see that. The way Steve was hooked up to the machines -- it might scare him more than comfort him to see his Papa right now.

His phone rang and he snatched it up, expecting it to be either to hospital or Bucky, but checking the number, it was neither of those. “This is Tony Stark,” he answered.

“Hello, Mr. Stark. This is Maria Hill.”

Tony ran a hand through his hair. Hill? What could she want? “Yes, hello, Ms. Hill. How can I help you?”

“I’m calling because --” she cleared her throat. “I’m calling because I think you’re in danger.”

Tony stood from his chair, telling Peter he’d be right back, and took the call to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. “I don’t understand.”

“Yes, sorry, I’ll explain. After I was brought on your case, I was approached and… threatened, that if I didn’t smear you in my testimony, my professional career would be destroyed.”

Tony ran a hand over his face. “What?”

“I… didn’t intend to follow through, in the end. I was going to give honest testimony on what I believed to be best for the child, but after what happened with Mr. Rogers, I can’t help but think that the man who contacted me is willing to go to extreme lengths to bring you harm. His name is Ivan Vanko, Mr. Rogers’ lawyer.”

Again, the only thing he could manage was, “... What?”

“Mr. Stark,” she pressed. “I’ve dealt with this man before. He views the people around him as pawns. And in my evaluation of Mr. Rogers, his conviction in this case was wavering at best. If Vanko thought Rogers wasn’t going to play his role he might have decided to… discard him.”

Tony swallowed. Vanko… that name sounded familiar, but Tony didn’t remember specifics. Just another name on the list of people who hated him.

And this one was taking active measures to destroy him and the people around him.

“Well,” he said hoarsely. “Thank you for the call.”

“Mr. Stark… I hope you go to the police.”

“Will do, Ms. Hill.”

He hung up, clutching the phone in his fist. Bucky thought this was his past catching up with him. Now Tony was finding out he was the one facing a reckoning, if Hill was right about this.

He dialed Bucky. He picked up on the second ring. “Yeah, doll?”

“How’s the search going?”

Bucky grumbled. “Natalie’s not making it easy for me. As of now, I’m coming up empty.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He licked his lips. “I just learned something. It… changes things.” Tony recounted his phone call with Hill.

“Wait, Ivan Vanko? That snake?” Bucky cursed. “That does change things. Our worlds are colliding on more than one front. He must’ve been the one to hire Natalie.”

“Are you sure? One person pointing a finger at him isn’t much to go on,” Tony worried. Maria Hill seemed respectable, but Tony didn’t know her well. This could all be nothing.

“It’s all we’ve got right now, and Vanko isn’t exactly a beacon of virtue. Him being Steve’s lawyer isn’t likely to be a coincidence. I’ll look into it. Thanks.” Bucky paused. “See you tonight?”

Tony released a breath. “Yeah.”

“And Tony? Keep your doors locked.”

“...Yeah.”

Hanging up again, Tony doubled checked the locks on the doors and windows, thoughts buzzing in his head like thousands of mosquitoes. He had to do something. God, what if they went after Peter?

The name Vanko niggled at something in the back of his head. He knew that name. He needed to find out from where -- and he needed to start reaching out to some contacts. Vanko was a high-powered attorney and Tony needed a lot of political weight backing him if he needed to take him down.

“Daddy?” Peter appeared behind him, startling him so bad he yelped a little. Peter covered a little grin with his hands. “Did I scare you?”

Tony stuck his nose in the air. “No.”

“Yes I did!” Peter giggled, and Tony was  _ so relieved _ to see his little boy getting back to normal. Looking down at him, Tony let himself believe that everything was going to be okay. He ruffled Peter’s hair.

“Alright, fine, you did.”

Peter batted his hand away. “Can I watch  _ Super Monsters? _ And have juice?”

Cartoons and juice. Peter’s favorite things. After the day they’d both had, how could he say no? “Sure, buddy.”


	12. Leverage

The circumstances around how Bucky got his skills wasn’t exactly something he was proud of, but at this moment, it was hard to regret having them. Everyone needed to be a little skilled in cyber crime, in his humble opinion. There was no situation that couldn’t be improved by hacking into some bank records. Er. Probably.

Definitely, for this situation. Vanko had a lot of money to throw around, and throw it around he did. It took some picking apart, but Bucky was sure he’d found all the people Vanko sent money to over the past month or so. Ten of thousands, at the least, for each. It paid to be a lawyer, but it paid even more to be a dirty lawyer. Bribes and extortion really added up.

Added up to cops, judges, witnesses, even other lawyers in Vanko’s pocket. 

Bucky ground his teeth in frustration, his quick temper rearing its head at the numbers, and what they meant for Tony. The odds had been stacking against him this whole time and he hadn’t even known it. He inhaled deeply, pushed himself away from the computer, and forced himself to make some calming tea.

His previous even-headed demeanor from before the mass altered his brain was gone, maybe forever, but with the mass out, it was easier to not get swept up in a self-multiplying spiral of rage. His temper was short, but he’d learned to manage it. Mostly. Work in progress.

Returning to the computer with his steaming mug, he took a sip while squinting at the names. There were a lot of names, many in high places. Vanko had a lot of pull, and if Bucky simply sent all he had to the police now, he couldn’t be certain it wouldn’t be buried. 

Whistleblowing to the media had a slightly better chance of success, but still not a good one. News outlets were known to sit on stories for all kinds of reasons, and with the media heads apparently willing to take money from Vanko, even if it did get leaked, there was every chance the story would be spun or downplayed some way to benefit Vanko.

Then there was Natalie, who could make more appearances in his life that led to the people around him getting hurt. 

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. There was also the chance that Steve would die in the hospital, and never get the chance to clear Bucky as his attempted murderer, and point them in the direction of the real culprit, Natalie. He knew Tony barely allowed himself to entertain the thought, but from what Bucky heard, it didn’t look good for Steve. 

As far as he was concerned, getting his name cleared was secondary to making sure Tony and his kid were safe, but would be a major plus if he could pull it off. Vanko needed to go down, and if Bucky could find a way to irrevocably implicate him along with Natalie in what happened to Steve, that would be the best case scenario. If not, Bucky would make sure Vanko went down for the bribery and extortion, at least.

He just had to flip some people on this list to his favor. As for Natalie… he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

***

Of course it was about Howard. Of course it was.

Tony glared at his laptop before slamming it shut. He’d recognized the name ‘Vanko’, all right -- _Anton_ Vanko, who’d worked with his father to develop the early arc reactor technology. They’d had some disagreement, apparently, because soon after, Howard made sure Vanko was deported. After that, Anton Vanko went on to slowly drink himself to death. Anton Vanko, father of Ivan Vanko.

Tony scoffed. Someone had come into his life with the intent of ripping it apart, and it wasn’t even about something _he’d_ done. Just some man intent on fighting a battle started by dead men.

A knock on the door signaled Bucky’s arrival. Tony shoved up from the couch to let him in, Peter only glancing up from where he was very intensely coloring in a princess-themed coloring book, already knowing Tony was expecting someone. He’d colored Elsa’s hair green. It was a good look for her.

He flung the door open, still fuming about what he’d learned, “You will not _believe --_ oh, hey, is that a new hoodie?”

Bucky glanced down a little self-consciously. It was fully black, rather than the gray the last had been, with silver hood string to match the zipper. It was nearly the exact same as the last one, but it looked… really good. “Uh, yeah. Figured it finally time to put the other one out of its misery.”

Tony nodded emphatically, prompting Bucky to roll his eyes with a smile. They moved inside, joining Peter back in the living room. 

“Peter, you remember Bucky,” Tony said. Peter paused from his coloring to send to wide grin at their guest.

“Hi!” 

Bucky awkwardly cleared his throat, giving a two finger wave. “Hey, kid.” 

Peter held up his coloring book to show them. He’d moved on to Tiana as a frog, who’d he’d made entirely purple. “Do you like my coloring?”

Bucky studied the image. “I like that you made it purple. Very creative.”

Peter beamed, setting the book down to continue his work. For his part, Tony’s knees went a little weak from the interaction. Nothing could make a man more attractive in Tony’s eyes than giving his son a reason to smile like that.

Unfortunately, Bucky and Tony needed to talk about grown-up and also a little bit illegal things, so he moved them to the kitchen. He made himself some coffee, and Bucky some tea when he requested it, and they sat down at the table to discuss what they knew.

Tony eagerly continued his cut-short rant from before, regaling Bucky with the injustice of Ivan Vanko’s fixation on him, and when he finished, Bucky looked equally unimpressed. Then Bucky explained what he’d found on Vanko, and his plan of action, which Tony was happy to finance. “Vanko’s leverage is money. In that area, I have him beat. By several light years. And I can do it all above board, too.”

He could. Donations, buying ad space, buying stocks, SI partnerships, etc -- completely legal ways of gaining leverage and people’s favor with money. It did require a lot more money than Vanko was spending. Vanko was putting money directly into people’s pockets, so he could afford to spend less. Tony’s method was more indirect, so not all the money he spent would end up in a paycheck, which meant he had to pay more to match Vanko’s influence. 

Not a problem.

With Bucky’s input on who was best to target, Tony picked up the phone and got to work. It’d been a while since he’d been in the game, but it wasn’t a skill set he was likely to forget.

While the line rang on the first call, Bucky leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. A secretary on the other end picked up, and Tony gave his pitch with a genuine smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, 300 kudos! Thank you guys so much!!


	13. Now Lie In It

A lesser man than Vanko might have have been worried. Setbacks like these were inconvenient, sure, as was the nature of life. He need only to correct the course. Rogers shouldn’t have survived. A blunder on the part of hired help, and one the Vanko intended to personally correct.

But first, the one who failed him must be dealt with. 

They met at night, in a discrete part of the city. The buildings in this area were empty and condemned, owned by banks who kept the properties in a state of perpetual limbo. No one came here unless they didn’t want to be seen,

Natalie slunk from the shadows a good ten minutes after he waited a good ten minutes, though he had no doubt she’d arrived first. She was paranoid and careful in way that would suggest she’d never leave anything to chance, but she had. All she’d had to do was take a life. She’d failed, so now Vanko was going to take hers.

He pulled his gun from it’s hidden holster, taking the shot before he gave her much time to react -- but he still wasn’t quick enough. Her foot made contact with his wrist, sending the bullet flying into the air with an eardrum-ripping bang. The gun fly from his grasp. Before he could react, he was on his back, wind knocked from his lungs, that same gun leveled right between his eyes.

Natalie leaned down, eyeing him critically. “Did you really think you could get the drop on me?“

“Since you were too incompetent to dispose of one simple target, are you so surprised?” he sneered.

She only rolled her eyes, pressing the barrel into his skin. Vanko felt the cold mental, and for the first time in a long time, a shiver of fear ran down his spine. He wondered if it reflected on his face. Natalie cocked the gun with a put-upon sigh. “He  _ was _ dead. Damn paramedics brought him back. It was a miracle.” Her tone on her last word was derisive. Someone didn’t like being thwarted. “I’m afraid this is where our business ends, however. Can’t abide attempts on my life, I’m sure you understand.”

Vanko froze under the weight of her words, his brain scrambling into a panic to deny the implications of her words.

“Natalie!” a man’s voice sounded from nearby. Vanko didn’t dare try to move his head, gun still pressed to his temple, but Natalie glanced in that direction.

“James,” she replied, not sounded all too pleased. “Thought you’d be out of the country by now.”

“Gun down, Natalie.”

Vanko noticed her stillness, the look of annoyance on her face. There was a gun on her, Vanko thought with some relief, and she wasn’t confident she could maneuver out of danger like she had with him. 

The name registered. His relief vanished. It couldn’t be…

“Are you honestly going to say you don’t want me shoot him?” Natalie asked, eyes boring into him. “He is the instigator, after all.”

“I said,” James said lowly, “gun down.”

She obeyed, sliding the gun away and standing up. “What are you doing, Jamie?”

“I’m not the man you knew,” James said. “I can’t let you kill him. But I do need you for something else.”

“I thought I told you I was done with favors.”

“Less of a favor, more of a ‘if you don’t do it, I’ll make sure your ass ends up in prison for three lifetimes’. Don’t test me, Natalie.”

Vanko inched himself from off the ground, backing away from the confrontation. The two of them glanced at him, but neither attempted to stop his escape. 

“I’ll be coming for you, soon, Vanko,” James said. “You’ve made your bed.”

Vanko fled.

Back in his home, behind the safety of locked door, he fumed. He worked for this. He deserved this. His father deserved this. He wasn’t about to let some low-life intimidate him into backing down when everything was so close to coming together.

He snatched his keys, pulled on his jacket, and made his way to the hospital. He’d clean up the mess Natalie left behind. His father will get justice. Vanko will make sure of it. The Stark legacy would pay the price.

Vanko entered the hospital lobby, making sure his tie was straight. He addressed the man at the front desk. “I’m here to visit a friend of mine, Mr. Rogers.”

The man glanced up at him from his computer. “Name?” he asked, voice droning in boredom.

“Ivan Vanko. I’m his lawyer.”

Clanking away on his ancient keyboard, he squinted at the screen. “Yeah, sorry sir, you’ve been denied access to the ICU.”

Vanko’s eye twitched. “Excuse me?”

“As Mr. Rogers is currently unable to make his own decisions, that burden has been placed by Mr. Rogers’ previously appointed health care proxy, who has made it known that he does not wish for you to have access to Mr. Rogers or the ICU.”

The rage that followed was blinding. Vanko only remembered a faint ringing in his ears, colors morphing together, and finally the stinging burn of the asphalt scraping his palms when he was thrown out by security.

This wasn’t over, he vowed as he dusted himself off. Steve Rogers would die. James Barnes would be blamed. Tony Stark would be dragged down as the man who orchestrated it all. And their precious little son would be left fatherless, just as he had been.

It was only a matter of time.


	14. Over

The first thing to pierce the emptiness of his mind was the steady beeping of machinery. Some part of him recognized it as hospital sounds, but the awareness flickered in and out. Then there were voices, ones he didn’t know, and ones that were familiar. The words melted from the air, leaving only the cadence that carried them to reach his ears.

Awareness of his body came next. He felt stiff. An attempted shift in his position resulting in jolts of pain from several areas of his body, and that pain rudely jerked him into full wakefulness.

He cracked open his eyes to the, thankfully, dim room, noticing two figures to his left speaking in soft voices. Opening his eyes fully, he recognized Sam and Tony. Sam caught his eye and broke into a wide grin, coming to his side and gently clapping his shoulder. “Hey, man. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Steve cleared his dry throat. “What happened?” he asked hoarsely. Tony silently handed him one of the paper cups full of water. He took it with a second of hesitation, the cool liquid soothing the scratchiness when he drank.

“Ya got shot, buddy,” Sam informed him. “It was bad.”

“Oh." Steve blinked. "I’m… good, now?”

“Pretty much. Doctors decided it was safe to wake you up, anyway.” Sam flicked him in the head, hard. “Don’t do that again.”

“What, get shot?” Steve asked with a grin. “I’ll do my best.”

Tony sat on the other side of him, mouth set in a line. Swallowing again, Steve fought the urge to downturn his gaze to avoid looking at his ex-husband. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. “We weren’t sure you would be.”

“How’s Peter?” Steve asked. “I don’t really remember what -- he wasn’t with me, was he?”

Tony shook his head. “You were on your way to court. Peter’s safe. He’s waiting outside to come see you, but I thought we could talk first.” He glanced up at Sam, who seemed to take it as a cue.

“I’m going to find you something to eat,” he said, clapping Steve’s shoulder once more before slipping out of the room.

Steve studied Tony’s face. For being the man he’d been married to for years, he was so hard to read at times. Tony took in a breath and nodded once, preparing to speak. “You said you… don’t remember what happened?”

Steve furrowed his brow in thought, searching his mind. “I think I remember leaving my apartment, but after that...” He did his best to shrug, but winced when it pulled on painful places. “Why?”

“I have some stuff to tell you. It might take a while to explain.”

***

Bucky got Natalie to rescind her statement. It was easy enough to explain away -- Bucky was an old friend of Steve’s who  _ just happened _ to be with Steve when someone else came and shot him. And in her panic, poor Natalie -- known to the police as Abigail Reids -- simply mistook what happened.

The police were skeptical. Bucky had a certain image among them, of course, but after both Natalie and Bucky brought on the waterworks, it was grudgingly accepted, and Bucky was turned from lead suspect to key witness. The police didn’t have much of a choice, anyway, since they had no evidence against Bucky besides Natalie’s statement, which was now void.

Tony was relieved. Bucky no longer being implicated meant that Tony was no longer being implicated by proxy. With his solid alibi, it had been a stretch to connect him in the first place. They had nothing on him now.

Next to deal with was Vanko. It wasn’t hard for Tony to pull the favor of several lawyers, including the New York DA, media bigshots, and the city’s commissioner for himself and away from Vanko. 

This further demotivated to pursue either Tony or Bucky as suspects in Steve’s shooting, they focused on finding the ‘real’ shooter. With the deal Natalie and Bucky made, he couldn’t tell them the truth, and gave a generic description of ‘someone in a big hoodie.’ The police wouldn’t have bought that Natalie was the shooter, anyway.

On the side, though, Bucky anonymously leaked evidence of Natalie’s past crimes to the police, and information about all the aliases he knew her by. Natalie was good at what she did, but Bucky would make sure she was pulled from the shadows and punished for the things she’d done, and even if what she’d done to Steve wasn’t  _ officially _ included in her charges. 

As for Vanko, once he was no longer pulling the city’s strings to his whims, it was a matter of sending records of his extensive white collar crimes to the press and watching Tony’s newly acquired headlines drag Vanko’s name through the dirt, ending in a very public arrest.

It was good, knowing they’d succeeded, even with the questionable ethics of it all. Steve survived. Peter was safe. Bucky was free to cut ties to his past. Tony could breathe easy again.

***

Steve licked his chapped lips. “That’s… wow.” It was so much. Vanko, his lawyer having him shot because he’d changed his mind? Crazy enough. Everything else was just a giant, crazy cherry on top of it. “And you and Bucky are…?” It was, truly, a minute detail when it came to everything Tony had told him, but it was his mind stuck on. Tony nodded, chewing the corner of his lip. “Okay,” Steve sighed. There was nothing else to say.

“I know you might have,” Tony gestured broadly, “gone about it all differently. Or prefer that I had. I don’t know. But it’s over now.”

Steve nodded slowly. He doesn’t know what he would have done, if the situation had been reversed, but he’d spent so long already being bitter about the ways he and Tony were incompatible. Tony worked the best he could in a broken system. It’s what he’d done in their marriage, and it’s what he’d done here. That didn’t always mean he liked the way it was broken, or contributed to the brokenness, Steve admitted to himself.

“It’s over now,” Steve agreed.

A quiet moment passed. Tony stood, the corner of his curving up. “I’ll go grab Peter. He’s been so excited to see you. I’m sure he’s driven Bucky crazy by now.”

Peter greeted him with an excited shriek and a running-jump hug that  _ hurt _ , but Steve didn’t mind in the least, squeezing his son to his chest and thanking god they were both alive. Bucky followed in after. He hesitated at the door, hovering awkwardly, but Tony interlocked their fingers and pulled him in the rest of the way.

It was weird. Steve didn’t know how comfortable he was with it -- but he was willing to work with it. For Peter, if for nothing else, but also for Tony and Bucky, both men he’d cared deeply for at one point, and continued to have warm, if complicated, feelings toward. 

And for himself. It would be good to finally let himself stand on stable ground. To carve out a life he could be happy with, and let others do the same.

***

Tony and Bucky left the room, letting Steve spend his time with Peter. Their fingers stayed laced together as they walked leisurely through the hospital, passing Sam, carrying a tray of jello cups and broth, on the way. 

“How are you feeling?” Bucky asked him softly. 

Tony tilted his head, leaning more into Bucky’s space. “Good. Yeah. I’m good. You?” He turned his head, meeting Bucky’s gentle eyes. He quirked a smile.

“Me too. Good.”

Tony leaned in for a kiss. “Let’s go for ice cream while Peter’s visiting. We’ll even bring everyone back a cone.”

“How generous of us.” Bucky snuck in another peck after Tony pulled away.

Tony hummed thoughtfully. “You’re right. Full-sized ice cream bowls for everyone.”

“I did not say that.” Bucky gave him a look. “You’re going to give Peter that much ice cream?”

“He’s earned it.”

He was holding back a smile, Tony could tell. “He’s three.”

“What’s your point?”

The smile broke across Bucky’s face and he rolled his eyes in faux exasperation. “Nothing. Let’s get that ice cream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thank you all so much for making writing my first fic such a joy!


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